Temporal Paradox
by lyrisca
Summary: It's impossible to change the past, and making the right choice at the wrong time means living with the consequences. Unless...?
1. Chapter 1

"It's been a long time," Penny says, her features warmed by a smile.

"Indeed." Sheldon returns the smile in spite of himself. Penny steps forward for a hug and is surprised by his lack of hesitation.

"Congrats again on the Nobel. How's it feel, to have completed your life's work and all of that?"

"Oh, Penny, my life's work is never complete. There's always something new to discover." The smile on his face falters. "In fact, I have to admit that the achievement was somewhat... anticlimactic. More of a relief than anything."

Penny raises an eyebrow. "A relief? That doesn't sound like you."

"No, it doesn't." Sheldon chuckles, but the sound is half-hearted. "I solved the unsolvable, and yet here I am, chasing the great dream of all physicists. Maybe I'll find some satisfaction in unraveling the mysteries of time."

"I'm sure you will." Penny places a comforting hand on his arm and takes him in; the dark circles under his eyes, the weary expression, the rumpled clothing. For as long as she's known him, he's been coiled up tight like a spring; neurotic, badgering, eager. Now he just seems... spent.

"You've changed," Penny says quietly.

"You're exactly the same," Sheldon murmurs.

The words hit hard, and Penny knows that something flashes in her eyes. Suddenly she can't look at him. "Leonard's not home yet. I'll make us some tea."

* * *

"Leonard. Do you enjoy teaching as a full-time profession?"

The question comes during dinner. In honor of Sheldon's arrival, Penny makes spaghetti with chunks of hot dog, along with garlic bread, bought frozen from the store and baked in the oven. Married life hasn't made her any more of a cook than she was years before.

"Well... sure." Leonard exchanges a glance with Penny; neither of them is used to Sheldon initiating small talk. "I mean, the graduate students are easy to teach because they're there by choice. Sometimes the undergraduates are frustrating, but it's nice to spot the future physics students."

Sheldon nods, takes a bite, swallows. Then he turns to Penny. "What about you? Are you still a waitress?"

Penny resists the urge to flinch. "No. I'm working at a movie store, down the street. It's... fun." She almost says _easy_, but decides against it.

"That's surprising. I assumed you were still pursuing an acting career."

"I never really— I didn't have much luck with it, as you may remember," Penny says, twirling her fork in her spaghetti. When the urge to hurl the plate at Sheldon's head registers, she smirks inwardly and thinks, maybe not so changed after all.

"I suppose that's true." Another bite, followed by a neat sip of water.

"What about you?" Leonard asks.

"I've been giving university lectures, attending seminars, overseeing physics conferences. The unfortunate side effect of winning the Nobel, I've discovered. I called you because I miss being entrenched in research, and because I do not have the experience in experimental physics that you do. The formulas I've come up with are, to put it lightly, provocative, and I don't dare present them to the scientific community without some sort of concrete experimental evidence."

Penny and Leonard glance at each other again. Did Sheldon just admit that Leonard was the better experimental physicist?

"Well... I'm glad you _did_ call. I haven't done any ground-breaking research in a while, and there's no better person to do it with." Leonard smiled. "Plus, I've sort of missed you. It's been, what, five years?"

"Five years, six months, 48 days," Sheldon says to his plate.

Leonard's smile pinches into something smaller. "Right."

* * *

After dinner, Sheldon offers to help with the dishes and Leonard disappears down the hallway for a shower.

"Thank you for letting me stay here," Sheldon tells Penny as he runs a towel over a plate.

"It was Leonard's idea," Penny responds, still feeling a little sore from the dinner conversation. "He said it'd be easier."

"But if you'd said no, he would not have presented the idea to me."

"I guess." Penny scrubs the spaghetti pan relentlessly, up to her elbows in bubbles. "You know," she begins, pausing to blow the hair out of her eyes, "if you'd come to our wedding, you wouldn't have to exchange pleasantries with us at the dinner table."

Sheldon stops drying, but says nothing.

Exasperated, Penny turns to face him. Water falls to the floor in soapy droplets. "Why _didn't_ you come to the wedding?"

"I had to focus on my research," he says simply, quietly.

Penny makes a derisive noise and resumes scrubbing.

Silence fills the space between them for a solid five minutes. Penny does her best to overwhelm Sheldon with dishes to dry, but he keeps up with her and sets down the last dish as she is draining the sink.

"For what it's worth, I regret it," he mumbles. His eyes are focused on the open window above the sink, on the world beyond.

Penny opens her mouth to speak, but she is already alone in the room.

* * *

Penny spends half the night and a good chunk of her day at work thinking about Sheldon's infuriating ability to make her feel like a failure. Yeah, so he was able to sacrifice his friendships for his career goals — so what? Does giving up on acting make Penny a bad person? Marriage seemed like less of a struggle. And Leonard loved her, made her feel wanted, didn't insult her intelligence. Sure, she missed the thrill of being on stage, the excitement of pulling emotions out of a crowd, but let's be honest: How often had she actually been able to do that? She was passionate about acting, but as casting director after casting director had told her, she was all passion and no structure. No direction. She couldn't even land a role in a lame local advertising commercial, and that seemed like a sign to her that she needed to stop trying to get her foot in the door.

Yeah, but acting is only one aspect of the business, whispers a nagging voice in the back of her head. You like writing screenplays. But instead of focusing on that, you just gave up. You work at a movie store, for chrissakes. That's like a slap in the face.

"Hey, where can I find the _Lord of the Rings_ movies?" a customer asks, yanking her from her thoughts.

Penny smiles and tries not to grit her teeth. "They're just over here. I'll show you."

* * *

Leonard and Sheldon are hard at work when Penny returns home. They've set up shop in the basement, and are busy tinkering with metal and wires and buttons.

"Any requests for dinner?" Penny asks at the bottom of the stairs.

"Oh, just whatever," Leonard responds, waving a hand behind him.

Sheldon straightens and glances at her. "How was work?"

Oh, that's rich, Penny thinks. "Just fine."

Back in the kitchen, Penny cracks open a dusty recipe book and decides to make the most complicated meal she can find.

* * *

_I started this at a completely different point in the story's timeline, but I got so caught up in this part of it that I decided to discard the rest (for now). I like the idea of Penny, Sheldon, and Leonard interacting years after the show's current timeline, almost as strangers, and examining their choices and regrets._


	2. Chapter 2

Penny wakes up early the next day to do laundry before work. She sorts clothes into three baskets; lights, darks, and delicates. Leonard's shirt, her work pants, Leonard's boxers, her panties. She can't shake an obsession with frilly underthings, even as a married woman.

"I'm sorry if I offended you the other night," Sheldon says behind her. She jumps at the unexpected sound of his voice over the slosh of the washing machine.

"Jesus, Sheldon, don't scare me like that," Penny snaps, setting down the pair of jeans in her hands.

"I'm not entirely sure what it was that I said; I went back over the conversation, and it could be a number of things. Regardless, I apologize."

"It wasn't just one thing." Penny sighs. She wants to be mad at him, but she's also not used to him being apologetic. "Listen, I just... I don't need you being critical of my life. It's not like I sacrificed anything. I just... made a different choice."

"Yes, you married Leonard." He leans against the door frame. "And I wasn't being critical. I was simply stating a fact: I didn't expect you to give up on an acting career."

"It wasn't giving up, is what I'm saying," Penny insists. "I wasn't getting anywhere with it, and then Leonard proposed, and I was happy with him, so I..." Penny realizes she can't meet Sheldon's gaze, so she goes back to sorting laundry. "Whatever. I don't need to explain myself to you."

"Of course you don't. As long as you're happy," Sheldon says.

Like everything that seems to come out of this new Sheldon's mouth, the comment surprises Penny, but she tries not to show it. "Yeah, exactly. And I am happy."

Sheldon nods, but Penny doesn't get the impression that he believes her.

Silence, then Sheldon says, "I'm going to the supermarket. Dinner will be on me tonight. I'm thinking pad Thai, for old times' sake. May I borrow your car?"

Penny gives him a look. "You can drive now?"

"Living alone for five years forced me to become more... independent, in some ways. I do have my license, yes."

"And you won't wreck my car?"

"As long as your car has an automatic transmission, no, I will not."

Penny laughs a little in disbelief. "Well... all right. Keys are on the counter."

"Thank you."

As she watches him round the corner, Penny tosses a black shirt into the whites basket on accident.

* * *

Nausea hits Penny in waves at work. She doesn't vomit, but the sensation is enough to warrant a trip to the drug store after her shift for a pregnancy test. She slips into a gas station bathroom a mile from her house to use it.

Five minutes. She sets the kit upside down on the back of the toilet and waits. Doing the test at home is out of the question; Sheldon is there, and for some reason, she doesn't want to risk him finding out that she and Leonard have been trying for a baby. She doesn't want to hear his opinion on the matter.

She paces in the stall, checks the time on her phone. One missed call from Leonard. The press of a button clears his name from the screen.

Penny checks Facebook, then her twitter.. The time turns over; five minutes are up. When she reaches out to pick up the kit, her hands are shaky.

Not pregnant.

Oh.

The feeling that washes through her is half disappointment, half relief. The relief makes her feel guilty; she _wants_ to have children, and Leonard is great with children. They've been married for three years, they're in a good financial situation, and it's not like she's doing anything career-wise.

The last thought sinks in, and Penny traces it as the source of the relief. As long as there's no baby, she can tell herself she's just biding her time, devoting her energy to the marriage.

Yeah, right.

Penny tosses the kit in the trash after wiping the tears from her eyes.

* * *

"Would you like a cup of tea?"

Penny is mostly staring at the word processor on her laptop, but she is also watching Sheldon cook. He chops ingredients deftly with a freshly-sharpened knife, his long fingers gripped firmly around the hilt.

"I'm all right, thanks." Penny looks back to the blank white screen and wills the blinking cursor to write for her.

"If you don't mind me asking, what are you writing?"

"Nothing yet." Penny chews thoughtfully on her bottom lip. "I'm thinking of trying to come up with a screenplay."

Sheldon throws her a glance. "Are you doing this because of what I—"

"No," she interjects. "I mean, yeah, but it's not— you weren't wrong. I don't have to give up on my dreams just because I'm married."

"Penny, like I said, it doesn't matter, as long as you're happy. And you're happy, right?"

"I'm..." Penny looks down at her hands. "Maybe not as happy as I should be."

"Should be, or could be?"

"What's the difference?"

The sound of the garage door opening interrupts them.

"Don't say anything to Leonard," Penny warns, her voice low. "It's not a big deal, and I don't want him to worry."

Sheldon nods.

* * *

Penny is staring at the screen again when Leonard comes to bed.

"Whatcha writin'?" he asks cheerfully.

"A screenplay, maybe."

A frown. "Screenplay?"

"Yeah." Penny feels a nostalgic pang. "You remember the first day we met, and I told you I was writing a screenplay? I found it on my computer and read it earlier, and the plot is so dumb. No one in their right mind would make a movie out of it, because it's been done a million times before. But, you know, the writing... it's not half bad."

"Huh." The frown is still etched on Leonard's face after he adjusts his pillows. "I kind of figured you were done with all of that."

Penny shoots him a narrow-eyed glance. "Done with it? Leonard, it's something I love doing. How could I ever be done with it?"

"You know what I mean." He grabs a book from the bed stand but doesn't open it. "I just thought we were going to do the family thing now, you know... have a baby."

Anger flashes through Penny. "Are you saying I can't have a baby and have a career at the same time?"

"No, no, not at all. Of course you can. I just— it's hard, you know? I figured you'd want to focus all of your attention on the baby."

"What about you? Do you get a free pass because you're the breadwinner?" Penny crosses her arms. "Why don't _you_ stay home with the baby?"

Leonard grins a little. "If you write a brilliant screenplay and make us hundreds of thousands of dollars, then I promise I'll be the stay-at-home mom."

Penny doesn't laugh.

"Ok, I'm sorry," Leonard says. "Let's just talk about this tomorrow? I need to get some sleep."

"Sure." Penny pulls the covers back. "I'm going to stay up a while, I think. See you in the morning."

She doesn't kiss him good night, and he knows better than to call after her.

* * *

The idea comes to Penny as she's fuming over Leonard's words. Her original screenplay is a sure-fire flop because it's too predictable and overdone; small-town girl moves to California and makes all of her dreams come true. She can name five movies off the top of her head that carry some incarnation of that plot, and none of them are particularly good. But what about the girl who moves to California and gets nothing she hoped for? The girl who never gets the part, meets all the wrong guys at parties, settles for something safe and predictable. Never gives herself enough credit, pushes everyone around her but herself. Traps herself in a bubble of mediocrity and unhappiness with no easy way out.

"Ridiculous," Penny says to herself. She doesn't feel trapped, and her anger with Leonard will fade. They will probably start a family soon, and her own frustrations will pass. But writing gives her the ability to blow off steam, and so she lets her hands fly over the keys. Prose first, script later, she reminds herself. She's always been a better prose writer, but the idea of transferring the images in her head to actors on a set fascinates her.

She writes the first scene. It takes her three hours to get right, and the clock reads 4 am by the time she is finished, but she isn't tired. She feels elated, filled with a sense of purpose.

It feels like flying.


End file.
